I'm going to die.
I, Dante Alighieri, am walking towards death.
However, every step I took was taken lightly in my heart; death didn't frighten me, it was welcome.
I walked with a smile on my face as I crossed the dark alley, without any fear, because nothing there represented any danger.
I wasn't going to die because someone would stab me or run me over, something quite possible in the dangerous world I was born into. Death was waiting for me because I had decided so.
We are born without any rights, we don't choose where, how or in what situation we will be born or die.
But I'm different.Why?
Because I am the biggest failure in the world, the human being most hated by God.
I was born and raised in a loving family with abundant talent. I managed to grow up fabulously, achieving wealth and fame. It was a perfect world.
But the guy upstairs must have gotten bored and decided it was time to make my life more exciting and difficult.
Some would say I was crazy, that the loss and pain had taken away what little sense I had left and that there was no point in blaming a fictional being.
How was that possible? How had I lost everything of value in a single night?
Who should I blame: my family or my talent?
And on a horrible night, full of pain and nightmares like any other day, I had an epiphany.
It was my fault. If I hadn't been alive, if I hadn't existed, nothing bad would have happened.
My pain and suffering weren't enough; I needed to die and face purgatory, but I wouldn't give God that chance; like him, I would decide my life and death.
And, with some difficulty, I could already see my goal a few meters away: a park bench in front of the dark, open sea, visible only because of a single lamppost, which illuminated only the seat and the outline of the sea.
I walked with pain as I dragged my useless leg until I reached the bench and was able to support myself. It had been years since the incident, but the pain had never gone away and I hadn't got used to losing my agility and receiving looks of pity. Today would be the last day, so... Never again.
With a final sigh, I reached out and groped under the seat until I felt cold metal in the palm of my hand. With a little tug, I pulled out the ribboned object.
And there was my end: a small silver metal object, whose size hid the lethal power of the deadly weapon. In my hands was a revolver, the end of many men and women.
I took a deep breath, sat down on the bench and put the barrel of the gun to my temple. I felt a shiver run down my back as I pulled the dog from the gun; the barrel was cold.
But that was all. I didn't feel my heart beating or life flashing before my eyes, just the cold of the gun against my temple. There was nothing else to feel.
Without hesitation, I put my finger on the trigger of the gun. With a little force, it would all be over.
PLIN! PLIN! PLON!
A loud noise rang out in the silence of the night, followed by vibrations coming from my pocket. It was enough to take my focus away from what I was about to do, and I hesitantly lowered the gun.
Should I have visualized it?
I never liked loud noises, so I silenced my phone and left only one notification with noise, which used to be my favorite novel.
I know I should just ignore it and get back to what I was doing, but my mind has always been curious and I would certainly end up agonizing with curiosity as I died, I would certainly prefer to leave this world with serenity.
And what harm would a little indulgence do?
I pulled out my cell phone with one hand and turned on the screen, only to be met with a notification that I had expected. Still, I was a little happy to see it, after all, I didn't think I'd have the opportunity to view it again.
"Curse the hero", new chapter!
Inexplicably, the story I'd followed for years was active again, despite the horrible ending.
What was the author thinking bringing this failed story back?
Curiosity seemed about to take control of my fingers so that I clicked on the notification, but my self-control was enough to know what was necessary and what was not.
I couldn't muster the courage to press the notification. Despite my curiosity, I resented the story. A sense of pride wouldn't allow me to go back. I couldn't forgive the author for such an unpleasant ending.
However, in a proper and discreet way, I managed to say goodbye to all my important friends and family, but I never managed to say a proper goodbye to the novel. I certainly couldn't deny the strength the story had given me to withstand the passing years, and it didn't seem right to leave without a farewell. Hesitantly, I wrote my last words.
I loved and hated this novel, just as I love and hate the author. Please fix that ending!
I've never been a man of many words, but it was undeniable that I'd written a good farewell. With that, I had no regrets left. With a heart full of serenity, I placed the cold barrel of the gun against my temple and let my index finger rest on the trigger. As soon as I pressed my finger, my cell phone lit up with a reply notification, but it was too late.
*BANG!!!
BANG!!!
"Hey, Dante, wake up! She's coming!"
A lovely, feminine voice whispered close to my ear. Was that the voice of an angel?
Had I gone to heaven after all?
And who was coming?
Clack.
Clack, clack.
Clack, clack, clack.
Clack.
Unexpectedly, the sound of high heels came closer, and steadily. Angels wore high heels? How unexpected.
"Mr. Dante, was the dream pleasant?"
asked another female voice, different from the first. This voice didn't come in the form of a whisper, but was spoken loud and clear.
The voice also carried a more mature tone and perhaps a certain tone of irritation.
Perhaps it was just me. My mother always told me that God was benevolent and kind, and I'm convinced that his angels must have had the same character. They wouldn't be annoyed if I was a little indulgent too.
"Yes, it was wonderful, Miss Angel."
I answered the beautiful voice with the politest tone I could muster. It would be very rude of me if I didn't answer such a kind angel who asked if I was having good dreams. Angels are indeed benevolent.
*CRACK!
As if I'd been shocked, I felt a shiver run down my back.
Something was wrong.
Did I hear something break in half?
Why are my eyelids heavy?
If I'm dead, why are these sensations appearing?
Have I failed in my goal?
Something is definitely wrong.
I need to check.
With some effort, I managed to open my eyes and was faced with an angelic sight.
A few centimeters in front of me was a woman whose beauty was such that it was difficult to do her justice.
Her fire-engine red hair was tied up in a bun, and her enchanting, dreamy eyes were the same color. However, they didn't have the same liveliness.
Her thin face gave her an extra charm, harmonizing her whole face and especially matching her bow-shaped lips, her greatest charm, which only increased with the smile that adorned her lips, although it was easy to see that it was a smile to hide her irritation. Details easily observable due to the distance between our faces, not too close, but far enough.
And, unfortunately, the irritated smile was directed at only one person: me, Dante Alighieri.
And, for reasons unknown, I could sense that it wouldn't be a good idea to irritate this beautiful woman even more. Looking into her charming eyes, I could see that she was having small spasms on the sides. Again, for reasons unknown, I knew that this was a very bad sign and that apologies were needed, followed by flattery, and that it had to be done now!
"My dear Professor Cristina, forgive my insolence. Your beauty was so dazzling that I thought an angel had descended from the vast heavens to grace me with your illustrious presence during my brief rest. However, to my dismay, the angel was real, but..."
"That's enough, newbie Dante. Your incessant flattery has no effect here, and your lack of discipline will not be forgiven. You lose 10 points!"
Unable to finish my flattery, I was forced to listen in silence to the teacher's scolding, which was not shouted, but said calmly and briefly, and echoed throughout the room like a sentence.
After the brief reprimand, she made an action that conveyed only one meaning, and even the most foolish would understand: she raised her index finger to her lips. It certainly wasn't necessary to say a word to understand the meaning: silence.
I've always been brave, but never reckless. Looking at her other hand, you could see a dented and broken metal object. In more glorious days, this object had a spherical shape, known to be harder than the human skull. The teacher crushed it easily.
And in all my wisdom, I didn't dare contradict the angry teacher, not least because she was giving me a glare, making it clear that she wouldn't forgive again.
After all, my flattery had paid off, despite her claims to the contrary. It was well known that the demon teacher Cristina was weak on compliments, and dropping only ten points was proof of that.
But how did I know that?
I didn't know, but at the same time, I had this knowledge.
Everything was strange.
When I spoke, I didn't recognize my own voice.
I didn't have that deep tone of voice or that eloquence that came so naturally to my tongue.
I'm also sure that I didn't know this teacher. There was no way I would forget such a beautiful woman, but a part of me knew her as the demonic teacher Cristina, whose rigor was greater than her beauty.
However, it wasn't just my memories that were wrong; the atmosphere was too.
I briefly looked away from the teacher and observed my surroundings.
Without a doubt, I was in a classic American university classroom.
There were many unfamiliar but familiar faces. At least 50 people, but many faces had some particularly interesting features, such as pointed or animal ears, as well as hair of different colors.
The sight was not unfamiliar to me, but it was still anomalous; something seemed out of the ordinary.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
Again the sound of high heels echoed through the classroom as the flame-haired teacher descended the stairs, which was enough to interrupt my thoughts. It wasn't because of the noise, but because of a glorious sight that greeted my eyes.
Cristina's face was a divine sight, but what about her body?
I couldn't see it properly due to the inopportune moment, but I certainly should have looked beforehand.
It was breathtaking, a real invitation to temptation and beauty.
A curvaceous hourglass-shaped body, whose curves were magnified by the white dress that came down to her knees. Along with the dress, a brown cardigan adorned her body, completing an outfit that demonstrated beauty, temptation and elegance.
She was an incredibly beautiful woman who managed to be sexy, beautiful and elegant without the slightest trace of vulgarity. Her features even extended to the way she walked. Cristina's presence was like a black hole, attracting everyone's attention as she stood in front of the arcane projector, one more thing I knew and, at the same time, did not.
"Today we will announce the rankings of each student present in the room. Those of you who are present, please raise your hands. I would like to remind you that the rankings are due to academic points and do not represent individual power."
Every word Cristina spoke was loud and clear, spreading throughout the room. Her words were well paced and short, avoiding the sleepiness that many teachers carried into their speeches. Her angelic voice also helped, but she had the manner of a teacher. Cristina wasn't all beauty.
"With 2700 points, first place goes to Agni."
I felt as if a bolt of lightning struck and ran down my back when I heard the name spoken by the crimson-haired teacher. That name was very familiar to me, I had seen it many times throughout my life, after all, it belonged to the protagonist of my favorite novel. But that couldn't be possible!
The idea that this was a second life was no longer so foreign to me, and I was getting used to it, but what if it was a second life in my favorite novel?
What are the chances of that happening?
If it were true, it would be disastrous, more than that, it would be a death sentence.
But there was only one way to find out.
And I wasn't the only one who was curious: almost unanimously, all the students looked behind them, looking for the student who was in the spotlight.
To my misfortune, he was definitely the protagonist and villain of this world.
He was a brat with platinum hair, dark skin, gray eyes and a shy expression due to the sudden attention. Overall, he seemed harmless.
It was even strange to think that he would become a genocidal and incendiary madman.
With that, it was conclusive to say that I was screwed, because God again had no pity for me.
What was the point of reincarnating in a world doomed to annihilation?
In a few years, a world war would break out.
After a few years taking part in it, Agni, the good-hearted boy, couldn't take the weight and went mad, killing anyone, regardless of their side in the war.
How could someone as untalented as me survive in a world of magic doomed to end?
In this world, I'm a nobody, just an extra.